Favorite Character

Current Roleplays

Complete/Retired Role Plays

Favorite Roleplay

Discussion for the private RP between myself and Erogenous Enigma. Rated 'NC-17' for violence, dark themes, etc. There is good reason for humanity's fear of the dark, for what goes bump in the night, makes our skin crawl and a chill run up our spine. We are afraid because as far back as we can remember, we have been hunted. The shadows have eyes and fangs and claws and a terrible, insatiable hunger. There was a time when we were only prey for these monsters. That time is no more. While most of humanity labours in it's delusion that we are safe in our homes, a select few know the truth. They know that the darkness is waiting, just out of sight, and that someone has to hold the line, else the human race is doomed. But how long can you hunt the monsters of the night, before you become one yourself? GLOSSARY Heaven - The realm where humans who have lived pure lives go when they die, only 'pure' human souls are permitted entry. Angels and Archangels reside here, but God left many thousands of years ago. In his absence, the three archangels assumed control of heaven. Hell - The realm of fire and darkness. Hell was once an empty realm, but when Lucifer - the fourth Archangel - was cast down by God, he chose to turn it into a place of torture and despair, a cruel and sad reflection of what he became. Angel - Beings created by God to serve and protect mankind. They come in many forms, but all are beings of great power. They are capable of teleporting across time and space and of communicating with one another across immeasurable distance. They are extremely strong, fast and regenerate physical damage remarkably quickly. Angels can exorcise demons from the host body, or do enough damage to the host body that it becomes unusable, but they cannot permanently kill a demon. Angels cannot exist on earth without a human body, but unlike a demon, they must have a willing host. Angels can take many incorporeal forms, but most often appear to humans as beings of light and heat. Once they have taken a host, they will appear relatively normal, however the host's eyes turn an unnaturally bright shade of blue and other angels, demons and certain humans can tell what they truly are, just by looking. Archangel - The first angels to be created by God. They are similar to other angels, but their power is far superior. They rule heaven in God's stead, and all angels answer to them. They are Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. Demon - Demons are tortured human souls turned into monsters that serve Lucifer. Demons cannot exist on Earth without a human host, but they are able to take one by force. Once inside a human they are far stronger than the body they inhabit, but no faster. Most low level demons have no innate powers, besides the physical, but there are some exceptions. Though demons who have taken a host will appear normal to most humans, their faces are monstrous to other demons, angels and a select few humans who have the 'sight'. Arch Demon - Unlike regular demons who were human in life, Arch Demons were beings created by Lucifer when he was cast down to Hell. Created as an affront to God's Archangels. They are treacherous beings of unquestionable power. Artifact - An object that holds an unusual history or link to monsters, angels, demons or other unusual races. They are not necessarily all magical in nature, but many do have unusual abilities or properties. Many are designed to destroy a particular species harmful to humans. Hunter - The term given to people who hunt monsters. There are no ruling bodies with the Hunters, only individuals who have taken it upon themselves to fight back against the darkness. Some are absolute in their approach to 'monsters', killing anything that isn't strictly human, while others choose only to slay those who harm humans or other beings. (We'll add to the lore as we continue the story) Name: Raziel Age: Unknown Appearance: http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y207/Sephy_dude/IanBlue_zps3ac9e167.jpg Personality: Confident, loyal, sombre and decisive. Raziel considers himself a loyal servant and soldier of God. He believes his loyalty lies with Heaven, rather than humanity. He can be emotionally detached and yet also have a childlike naivety and curiosity about humans and the world in general, but he can also be wrathful and like many angels, he often deals in absolutes. History: Raziel is an angel, but little is known about him, in part due to his own loss of memory. He knows that he was a keeper of secrets, and that he hasn't been on Earth for several thousand years, but aside from that, much of his memory is missing. When he arrives on Earth, he knows he has been cut off from Heaven, and believes he has committed a terrible sin. Unable to return, he rationalises that he should continue God's work on Earth, and destroy any demons or monsters that prey on humanity. His first port of call is to a certain museum that he has retained knowledge of, the location of a powerful artifact. Abilities: He has many of the same abilities that most angels have, including superhuman strength, speed and healing. However, he is unable to communicate over long distances with other angels and has also lost the ability to teleport. He is still able to exorcise demons from their host bodies through touch.

With the teams evidently settled, Sierra herded them all out to the monorail track and left them to their devices. "Well, I dunno about all of you but I've only explored A, B, and C islands, according to the map." Dei admitted. "So I suppose we can either explore other places while patrolling, or visit known areas. E and H look to be the larger ones, so personally I'd vote we head to one of those first." Dei checked his skin and made sure he was in Windsoul form. He figured flight would be a more handy ability in a sudden pinch, whilst in the city, than his acid surge would be.

Hey there! This is a role play currently between myself and Alisyn, which we're opening for one or two other people to join. Usually I only really start one-on-one role plays, but as this is set to be something of an epic fantasy adventure, I think the addition of others would make it more exciting! If you're interested, please read on. :D Now, I don't usually start role plays with huge predefined backgrounds and history, I just jump in, and I know people here are so clever and organised with their opening posts for threads like this. What I'm saying is, please don't be disappointed! It's sorta the bare threads right now, and I'm open to suggestions and ideas. in fact, I encourage it, as I'd like everyone involved to feel like they're a part of the creative process. Current Plot Our story takes place in a fantasy land, currently unnamed, and starts in the city of Tartarus. The much loved and adored King of the realm has just been buried, and his son, who, by comparison, is despised and loathed, has taken his place on the throne. He rules ruthlessly, with an iron fist, and anyone who openly shows loyalty to the late King, his father, is executed for treason. Much of his rule follows the same pattern, any dissension or rule breaking is punished severely, often by death, and when a group of rebels gather together to try and bring him down, they are all caught and taken to the gallows. The King's barbaric tendencies cause his people to succumb and live in constant fear, now too afraid to protest openly. Meanwhile, the King himself is advised that he must find a wife to give him an heir and keep the royal bloodline. Tired of the women who surround him at court, flirting and talking incessantly, the King sets his sights further, on the Elvish lands {also currently unnamed} on the border of his Kingdom. There Alatariel {my character} is one of the last of an ancient Elvish bloodline, living peacefully in the forests of her homeland, and governing the race of elves who live there. Once she hears of the King's intentions, she is not pleased, but is advised that the union could be helpful to their race. Their own numbers are dwindling, and with a half Elvish, half human King on the throne, once the current one passes, it could strengthen their race and expand their Kingdom. After all, who can match the power and grace of the elves? Alatariel agrees to the wedding, having no idea of the man she is marrying, and once she arrives at Tartarus, is quite shocked by her future husband. He, on the other hand, is arrogant beyond measure, having never thought for a moment that she would refuse, or could do anything but fall passionately in love with him. They could be married within a week, and produce an heir within a year. However, Alatariel doesn't last a week. Sickened and disgusted by her betrothed's actions, she flees in the night, out into the lands of a country which is unknown to her. The King, upon finding her missing the next morning, immediately sends out search parties, and after the initial search proves fruitless, offers a reward for her return, alive. And that is where our story starts. Alatariel is on the run, and meets Alisyn's character, who, I believe, is a male scholar, in a small town tavern. Given that this role play is fantasy, the possibilities for your character are endless. You could be a standard human, a wizard, witch, dwarf, goblin, elf etc etc, let your mind run wide! i will post a mini character sheet at some point, with the very basics, as I'm not really a fan of profiles. You don't have to post one, but if you want to just chuck out your characters name, age and race, that would be great. And appearance too, if you'd like. Really, post as little or as much as you like. That is, if anyone is interested. :P If you have any questions, just post here or PM me. OH! And what I should mention, is that this role play will focus around Alatariel and the scholar running from the law, and trying to gather forces to overthrow the King. So yeah, typical good vs evil thing lol

It was a hot day. Large crowds of foreign dignitaries milled into the stadium, eagerly chattering away in anticipation of the show that was about to be performed in front of their very eyes. Soldiers in towering suits of metal and kevlar stood by the various entrances, hefting impressive guns as a warning to anyone who might threaten to disturb the peace. It was of utmost importance that nothing went wrong today, for it was the unveiling of the United States's latest superweapon to the world. ExoSuit ESX-58, "Spectre". It had been nearly 15 years since the megacorporation, FutureTech Industries, revealed the first ExoSuit. Even back then, it was an astounding breakthrough in technology, providing innumerable advantages to the average soldier. Super strength, enhanced battlefield awareness and invulnerability to conventional firearms were three of its numerous selling points. The ExoSuit changed the landscape of war, rendering traditional strategies and weaponry useless. The US and Chinese militaries imported vast numbers of these ExoSuits, hoping to equip every soldier with one by the year 2050. Since then, there have been countless improvements made to the original ExoSuit, with each country going on its own developmental path to create their unique breed of super soldier. Demonstrations such as these were a show of might, a way of waging war without harming lives. Deterrence, in a way. That was the reason why so many world leaders were gathered at Phoenix, Arizona to witness the demonstration this day. It would take a fool to interrupt such a heavily-guarded event. "AS-08X, Seraph Excalibur, in position. Operation Ghostbuster will commence in T-minus 10 seconds. 9. 8. 7..." As the applause from the audience began to fill the air, a lone figure moved out of the shadows and approached the entrance to the grand stadium. It resembled an ExoSuit in a way, but its features were more sleek, almost alien-like. Streaks of blue light trailed behind the suit reminiscent of wings, and the suit hovered in the air, its feet just a few inches off the ground. The guards on duty raised their gauss rifles, training them upon the newcomer with honed lethality. "Halt! Identify yourself!" One of them spoke, as he slowly approached the figure. The other seemed to be speaking into a microphone, presumably calling for reinforcements. The figure halted, allowing the soldier to reach within arms' length. "Turn around and put your hands up- hey!" Moving faster than the eye could see, the Seraph Excalibur darted to the right as the soldier in the ES-22 "Gallant" suit fired off a few rounds, turning around to follow its movements. As the soldier raised his gun, there was a flash and an arc of light, and then his arm lay severed on the ground, the gauss rifle landing with a great crash. He barely had time to scream, however, as the next slash took his head cleanly off, leaving him to kneel down and collapse in a pool of blood. "Mayday! Mayday! Unknown hostile at entrance 15! We need backup- AAARGGHH!" The Seraph Excalibur pulled the plasma blade out of the soldier's abdomen, dropping his corpse onto the ground with a lazy action. "Going in," the man in the suit whispered. The whole stadium was in disarray now, as the sounds of the battle outside reached some of the audience. More soldiers were running here and there, evidently attempting to control the situation as they dispatched more men to the scene. Their reactions were too slow. The Seraph Excalibur flew into the middle of the stage, where the new suit was located. The Spectre. To the pilot's credit, he seemed pretty calm despite all the confusion in the area. As the newcomer floated down to meet him, he raised a large pistol and pointed it straight at his forehead. "I don't know who you are, buddy, but you picked the wrong place to make a scene," he declared. "By doing this, you have incurred the wrath of the entire United States upon yourself. Not that you'll be alive for much longer. I am, after all, Richard Stone, one of America's ace pilots, in my country's most advanced ExoSuit. I don't know how your magic suit can maintain propulsion for so long, but it's not going to save you from me." About twenty guns were trained on him at this point of time, with the soldiers forming a wide arc around the dome-shaped stage. "... You're noisy." A vein popped in Richard's head. "What did you say?! Who the hell do you think you are anyway?!" His finger pulled the trigger- The Seraph had weaved to the side, a plasma blade extending from each hand as it advanced upon his adversary. Immediately, every soldier on the scene opened fire, but not a single shot found its mark. Whether by skill or ungodly luck, the Seraph was moving in fluid motions that avoided each bullet as it approached, rapidly advancing upon the Spectre as it tried to retreat to gain distance. Impossible, Richard thought, as he emptied his pistol's magazine at him in vain. Such speed! It's as though he can see where I'm going to fire... With a burst of light, the Seraph appeared next to him in an instant. Richard barely had time to react, whipping his hand away as the MC-198 Magnum he was holding dropped to the ground in pieces. He swore, reaching for the next weapon- but he felt a searing pain and a violent shock, and then he noticed the gaping hole where his arm was supposed to be. A hand grabbed him by the neck, and he felt himself being raised up into the air as it became difficult to breathe... He noticed the firing had stopped. Did someone else take out the soldiers? But Richard had more pressing matters at hand, as he struggled to wrestle himself free from the Seraph's iron grip. He realized the whole stadium had become silent, as all eyes were fixated on the scene in the center of the stage. The Seraph reached over to his suit, plucking out the microphone that was attached to the stadium's loudspeakers and moved it to his mouth. "I am Vengeance." And then he snapped Richard's neck.

Even if it doesn't seem like much to go on, we have a good starting point. We both like dark settings, so that works out well. Are you into dark/gothic atmospheres? Dark fantasy? Realistic? Modern or historical? I'm open to almost anything. On my end: I would prefer a solid plot rather than diving straight into lovey-dovey banging. I've done plotless yaoi RPs before but the build-up is what makes it interesting, in my opinion. I enjoy rivalries and volatile relationships that blossom into something more, but it doesn't have to be that way. I just think arguments are a lot of fun and sexually tense, hah. : ] I can do fade to black or really graphic. In the past my RPs have tended towards the latter, though. Also, I play seme 75% of the time so you're all good with an uke. : ]

â€œWelcome, one and all, to the best show of your life!â€ The Ringmaster yelled. Wearing a bright red suit and holding a large baton, the red haired man walked out onto the middle of the stage. He grinned at the onlookers. â€œI am your Ringmaster, Rufus the Cunning!â€ Rufus paused, laughing as he scanned the crowd with his bright golden eyes. The children in the audience started to cheer and chant his name. His circus troop was famous all over the world. They traveled from town to town, preforming and making a living. Rufus waved his baton, pointing leftward where a mysterious gray blob lay on the ground. It moved around, it's shape changing in captivating ways. It looked as if it were dancing. With a shout of surprise, the children giggled when the gray blob exploded in a burst of lights and confetti and there standing was a short, barely dressed girl. She wore an open red vest, her small breasts covered by a silvery shiny bra. and a pair of black tights, her toned form visible, obvious that she wasn't a child at all despite her smallness. Her hair was bright green and long, held back in two buns on top of her head. Her skin was a most peculiar green, but most stunning were her eyes. They glowed an unnatural white, made even more strange because they lacked a pupil. â€œThe Alien!â€ The audience shouted in joy. Indeed the small girl standing there was the one everyone knew as The Alien due to a rare defect in her genes. The Alien was part of the first act, The Freak Show. She walked around the ring, doing cartwheels, and graceful back flips, landing in the splits. The children in the audience ooed and awed, and even some of the adults couldn't stop themselves from making noises of surprise as she did some complicated acrobats. With a sudden whoop, a large man ran out onto the stage. He growled, though he sounded like a gentle pussy cat to those who knew him personally. To the audience he sounded like a wild lion ready to pounce. The large muscled man ran up to The Alien, and picked her up with one hand, holding the girl high into the air. The Alien was flipped, doing turns in the air, before she landed back on the big man's outstretched hand. The newcomer was none other than The Strong Man. He was known only as that. Nobody knew his real name, nor did he remember it. He was simple-minded, yet the sweetest person alive; his only passion in life was to make the people around him happy with his pseudo scary act. The Strong Man boomed in loud laughter, tossing The Alien around a few more times, each time the small girl did different acrobats in the air, before she was caught again. The Strong Man growled at the children, making them jump and yell in frightened delight. â€œAlien fly!â€ The Strong Man yelled, throwing The Alien one last time, but this time, the girl was thrown away from him, her arms tucked to her side. She soared, looking as if she were a bullet, and then with a sudden twist and a turn, she tumbled in the air, and landed on her feet as if she were a cat. The audience stomped their feet, shouted and clapped their hands, shouting â€œAlien,â€ over and over again. The Strong Man grinned again, continuing on with his act, as The Bearded Lady came out and they started an interesting dance, showing off his strength in other ways, and scaring the children with how strange The Bearded Lady looked. Though, they did love The Bearded Lady as most kids did love The Freak Show. Now The Strong Man was dancing with The Siamese twins, Bob and Tom, a strange cat and mouse game. The Strong Man was the fearsome cat, chasing after the twins, as they in a surprisingly graceful way, flipped and jumped fluidly. The Strong Man was even graceful in his own ways. The Alien suddenly rushed out, flipping and jumping over the twin's heads, twirling and spinning around The Strong Man as if to confuse him and save the twins from being chased. â€œHey, mine!â€ The Strong Man yelled. He grabbed onto the twins and pulled one way, while The Alien grabbed onto the other and pulled them the opposite way. It was a tug-of-war between The Strong Man and The Alien. Suddenly bright lights filled the tent, blinding everyone. There was a loud bang, like a cannon ball going off during battle. When the light cleared and everyone regained sight, The Strong Man was gone! The twins had also disappeared, standing in their place was Rufus the Cunning. "How was that folks? Did you enjoy the first act? How about we bring out the wonderful performers?" The Ringmaster pointed toward the left where the gray blob was back; in another explosion of confetti The Alien stood there again. The small lady bowed. "The Alien, everyone." Rufus exclaimed, as if in alarm when The Strong Man came out and picked him up with one hand. "The Strong Man, everyone!" The twins walked out onto the ring and waved. "The Siamese twins, what a sight! Tom and Bob, everyone." The jointed twins did a back flip. "And there," The Ringmaster shouted, "The Bearded Lady!" The young woman ran onto the stage, she waved, tweaked her beard and did a cartwheel. The actors bowed and bowed while the audience cheered and threw forward coins and other valuable gifts, such as rings, watches and one lady threw her expensive looking locket. [Please don't take this as an example on how long all my posts will be. I do try my best, but I am still practicing my skills!]

It was a midsummer evening, so the fact that it was sweltering was no surprise. Sweat dripped down even Espen's delicate features, dripping almost pleasantly cold onto his collarbone. Regardless, he disgustedly wiped it away from his jaw. An elf, looking less than perfectly composed? His entire being rejected any flaw in perfection; it was instinct for his kind. Breathing in the thick, humid air, he turned away from his mirror and to the dark figure standing nearby. "Vashonne." His voice was direct when he addressed the demoness. She was easily more powerful than he, much like a large dog could easily maul its human, and so he kept a solid command at all times. If she were to get out of hand, it would not bode well for him. He liked to think they got along, however, despite their strange relationship. He had summoned her almost immediately after Saoirse was killed. Her summoning was only half-intended, born more from his rage and sufferingâ€”and guilt, that he hadn't been there to protect his beloved sister when she had needed him the most. Though his anger was now hidden well within him, it was no less fiery than it had been that day. "It's time you got ready for the party," Espen said to his demon. "This is the only chance we have." Through connections, he had managed to score an invitation to a very secret masquerade ball. Held in a countryside mansion, only a certain class of the elite were allowed in. It just so happened that the host was none other than Ragnar Voll, leader of the Voll Pack. It was the Voll Pack of lycanthropes that had killed his sister for sick sport, using her as bait for their newest turns to hone their skills on. Espen remembered the morning that she had been found. The authorities were powerless to stop the Voll Pack. Powerless, or completely under Voll's sway. Rich, with blue blood and connections to the highest powers in the country, Ragnar Voll got away with anything he wished. Espen would make sure he didn't get away with it this time. "Go on, darling. I can dress myself. We can't be late."

Quick and easy. I need one other person for this. The plot is simple. Along with their summoned demon familiar, an elf is on a revenge quest to destroy the pack of aristocratic werewolves that murdered their loved one(s). This takes place in a vaguely modernâ€”if fantasticâ€”setting. There are cars, there are iPhones, and there is some magic. Elves differ from humans in that they live much longer, have a command over natural magic, and have better reflexes than humans. Ultimately, this is to prevent the main character from being completely useless beside a powerful demon. Elves prefer to blend in with society and make sure that humans are unaware of their presence. You can play the elf or the (humanoid) demon. Ask questions if you need clarification.

After completing the first quest since the release of DMO the group of Adventurers has spent their time roaming around Winterhaven. Solitude has left them, preferring to go it alone for a while now that the first quest has been completed and left an open spot in the group. There werenâ€™t many players who had dared to attempt the first quest, they had instead opted to grind random creatures until they reached level 2, which lead to this particular group to gain a small amount of recognition among the other players. One of the players who had decided to grind to level 2 by killing creatures was the Changeling Assassin Nam. When the group advertised that they were looking for someone to fill in the hole left behind by Solitudeâ€™s departure Nam became the person who was eventually chosen as the replacement. Rumors of a mysterious supergroup who had apparently already managed to reach level 3 circulated around Winterhaven. The names of these members werenâ€™t mentioned by anyone, but they were known as â€˜The Golden World.â€™ No one really knew where that name came from or why people called them that, though. With one more quest left in their questlog and many other adventures waiting for them it was time for the group of heroes to set out on their second adventure.

A sunshine filled morning envelops the small city of Baile BhÃ¡is in the middle of an island off the coast of England. The newest and most top scale apartment complex built in the middle of the city to show its great status of a peaceful place. This apartment complex was constructed and reserved for the use of the UAA. A mixture of expanding their empire of influence and a need for housing for their increasing ranks made them abandon their previous base of operations in Santa Destroy, California. That and the fact that in an epic, and very costly battle between the previous and current Rank #1 assassins in the organization which ended with the explosion that destroyed the building meant they needed to find a new place anyways. This new building was crafted specifically for the purpose of not only withstanding nuclear destruction, but unnecessarily over the top mass destruction level holocaust of the entire world level fights between assassins. With the expanding arsenal that the assassins keep getting a hold of, it only seemed proper to get a place even they couldn't blow up. Each floor is designated for the use of ranks from a certain number to the number below the next possible rank in a 10 number segment. This is of course not where most of the assassins choose to live as it would be suicide, but some would choose to pick this format to kill off as many in the ranking for #1 as they could in one fell swoop. As such, while the rooms are not in use for the assassins, it will be used as a mixture of a training facility, hotel for non-assassins, and no doubt filming studio for multiple pornography companies looking for a secure place to film their lewd acts in privacy. Or not, there's always out in the street. Nonetheless, a sign has been left up at the top of the massive building, reading in all caps in blazing red fluorescent lighting, "NO MORE HEROES". In the mail, multiple people[Currently: Celine Larson, Sir Louis Ellington, and Bruce McMasters], receive a key card and a round trip plane ticket to the island city in the case of their next ranking arrangement, which of course must be paid in full to set up an area on the island for the two to fight. It also reads, "To the assassin of this enclosed message. Send money to this address to set up for your next fight. The amount for this fight shall be...," For each a different amount, but no less ridiculous. "How to you think we keep in business at all?" is what some members of the staff have said, and it is true. Real-life assassinations keep the name going, it's surprisingly the assassins themselves who supply the most money for the company.

Sooo, we're set on something along the lines of X-Men, yes? I've set the rating to NC-17, so we're pretty much covered for everything, especially language. We don't want any pesky restrictions, do we? ;) Do you want the setting to be similar to X-Men, in that they're 'mutant's in a human world? Or a more magical sort of world, in which everyone has some power, and a select few, such as the chosen students at the school, are more potent? Also, we'll need to think about what sort of conflict we want. Whether it be a single enemy with pawns, like Magneto, or a mass army, or human oppression. And, of course, our characters. I'm not a fan of doubling, as everyone one HEX seems to be. I favour one character, and then use NPCs as and when they're needed. Also, I'm not too keen on character sheets, but some basics are useful {name, age, powers, etc}. Of course, if you wish to write more, feel free. What are your thoughts so far?

Cooperation U has been in business sense the late 18th century. It has changed several times over sense it was first created but its purpose has always remained the same â€œTo hunt and track down the worldâ€™s worst criminals, for the highest bidderâ€œ. Cooperation U is known to have only the best assassins in the business, each of them possessing a special skill. The assassins are found typically at a young age and taken into the industry. Most are orphans, no family no friends, no one to miss them, or remember their existence. The Cooperation has several bases all around the globe in order to keep those who wish to do serious harm at a minimum. Each base is different along with the assassins living within its walls. Most are gone for several months without returning to their base for reconditioning, reevaluation, readjusting, recuperating, and resupplying. Because operatives are taken at such a young age, most of the Assassins have little to no relations to others, however, some assassins for a special bond with their trainers, evaluators or each other. Rikusik was one of those who had more emotion then others. She had just turned 25, and for her birthday she was given a wonderful gift, a chance to test to become one of the elite assassins of The Cooperation. Those who were considered â€œElitesâ€ were allowed to choose the assignments they are given, and if they are to have a co-assassin. Theyâ€™re given the opportunity to travel wherever they please in their free time, and they have the choice to take on a trainee of their own. This was a great honor, and no one had reached such a level at such a young age. Rikusik had a special bond with her trainer Yuri. He was a retired assassin. Yuri had reached the success of an elite assassin by the age of thirty. At thirty two he had chosen to take Rikusik as his trainee. He called Rikusik his portage because she took to the training, like a fish to water. She worked hard, and never gave up. At one point she had went 72hrs with no sleep, food or water. She would have gone longer, but hallucinations from her childhood began to creep into her mind driving her into a unfit psychological state. Rikusik was seven when she was take on by Yuri. Yuri now stood at a simple height of 6â€™2â€. He has long silver hair which he kept in a pony tail. His eyes are soft silver, with many bags under them, aged well by the long missions and nightmares that kept him awake at night. Yuri shoulders were strong and braud, leading down to his large arms, starting to lose their luster, but were still strong enough to lift and throw Rikusik to the other side of the room. His legs were just as strong, but all the bulk did not slow him down. His reflexes were quick and his instincts were as strong as ever. Rikusik sat in a white room, and that is exactly what it was. White sold walls, white door, white tile floor, right down to the table and chairs everything was a clean crisp bright white. She hated this room with a passion, it was far too bright and unnatural. She waited for her assignment for her exam. Yuri entered the room, from what seemed out of nowhere. He sat down at the table and slid over the envelope. Rikusik open the envelope and began to read the details on her new assignment.

Several groups of adventurers had undertaken the first quest in the DMO starting town, Winterhaven, but only a few had actually returned. The first of these groups was one referred to by the other players as The Golden World. All of these adventurers walked around the town showing off their fancy â€˜Goblin Punterâ€™ title, not even caring that it was extremely silly. They just wanted to show off. One of these adventurers was Aramachus. A Paladin who had managed to complete the quest with his former group, but had decided to part ways with them afterwards. After completing the first quest he had decided to find a new group to tackle the remainder of the quests available in Winterhaven. To that end he had formed a party with players who had reached the second level by endlessly grinding creatures in the outskirts of Winterhaven. He had heard rumors that both Ernest Padraig and Valthrun were interested in the retrieval of a certain something stolen during the bandit raid a while ago.

The mountains...the survivors, including myself came here a long time ago. It's out home and we won't give it up to those disgusting creatures down below. They wander up sometimes. I've honed our homes into the very rock to make it safer for us. It's been hundreds of years since the world was lost to the Titans. We, the last of civilization survive on hope and dreams. We have a military system of sorts and even could call ourselves a great city. Our city is under the mountain and stands firm to this day. We have a military, police, merchants, even a hierarchy of sorts. As for me, I'm a tinkerer and military man. My designs for traps have been used for years now to keep the titans at bay on the sides of the mountain. Granted I am still a man of the military and have lost much to the titans. I have only my left arm to work with now, as my right was bitten off by what we like to call an Abhorrent titan. It's a tough life by we manage. I still stand as one of the top titan killers, if for no other reason that my device designs, one of which allows for slight flight. I actually have a team behind me with designing traps. I am a Captain after all. I've been here about 10 years now, late 20s, and still alive. What more could I ask? One of the people under me is a prodigy, newer to the group. I have a feeling she'll make a great apprentice under me for major device design.

Dripping water could be heard on the cold stone floors, the walls just the same. Nothing painted nor decorated, just hard, grey stone broken only by rows of metal bars. Many sounds could be heard, ranging from laughter and curses to whispers and... other sounds that best remained uninterrupted until the finish. Regardless of what they were, they all echoed about the enormous building filled with cells. Guards stalked up and down the hallways, checking on the prisoners but rarely making any authoritative moves on any of them, though a lot of them needed it. It was odd. If there were fights going on in a cell, it would be completely ignored even if the guards had to drag a dead body from it later on that day. However, if there was any use of drugs or any acts of sexual pleasures or behaviors, they were quickly handled. Still, this had little effect on most of the prisoners except the common sense to learn when the time was right to do things. Which really wasn't that difficult to do. This was pretty evident when one of the newer of prisoners was crouching down in his cell, surrounded by bars on all sides except the wall, that hard stone wall. He had his back leaned against that, making sure he was in the center so the hands grabbing at him from one of his neighboring cells could not reach him or what they wanted. And what they wanted was the softly glowing light at his lips. He pulled the full rolled up paper from his lips and breathed out a cloud of smoke, flicking his prize so ashes fell from it. A guard was on his way up their hallway, but he made no move to put out his small flame. Not yet, at least. He put it back to his lips and laughed inwardly at how easy it was to tell who was new and who was not. Clearly, the cell with the arms reaching for him was new. Not only was the prison not experienced enough to steal his own prizes, but he was also desperate enough to beg to another inmate for his. This prisoner had a cellmate with more experience, but the cellmate rarely helped out his new 'partner' and kept to himself. The man in the other neighboring cell, though, had been here for a while. The scars on his face showed the great number of fights he'd been in. But that wasn't what gave him away. It was the scowl he wore as he watched the prisoner begging. It not only told of irritation at such a pitiful sight, but also the annoyance that he had not scored any rewards of his own. He couldn't blame the man, though. Prizes like these were hard to steal but helped to take the edge off extremely well. His bright crimson eyes were not easily missed and, along with other demonic traits he had, the humans did not take much of a liking to him and made sure that was obvious. He'd been in more fights than he could count yet he couldn't have been here for longer than three weeks. His clothes hid the current cuts and bruises his body held and this 'prize' of his did help take off the edge, but it would take something much stronger to help at the extent he wanted. Finally, he rose out of his crouch and put the small flame out by pressing it against the wall, slipping the remaining pot into his pocket. The guard was getting close enough to begin finding things and both of his neighbors rose to their feet and moved to the back of their cells. The demon's anxiety began to rise and he bit his tongue. Stop it. You can't freak out every time a guard comes by. This is not the first time by a long shot! He kept a calm facade as the guard continued walking. See? Eas- He almost flinched as the guard turned to look into his cell. There are so many smells in here, surely he can't smell it. Not from there. The demon tried reassuring himself, but it wasn't helping him much. The guard banged on the bars that made the door of his cell. "Get up here!" The demon swallowed, but strode forward, not wanting to show his fear. Especially not with other prisoners watching. He came up to the door, his hands to his sides but casually. The guard stared him down for what seemed like ages, but finally spoke. "You will be receiving a cellmate shortly after lunch. A boy about your age. To remind you of the rules: No blood on the first day. No rape on the first day. Fights are allowed, so long as there is no blood. No deaths on the first day, unless it is the one who had the cell first. You do not have to get along, but we guards do not want to hear it. And if you do get along-" He smirked and gave a cold laugh "-we still do not want to hear it." He continued laughing as he stalked off, going on down the hallway and finishing his rounds. A blush of embarrassment crossed the demon's cheeks and he chased it off with a soft growl, going back to the back of his cell and crouching down to sit once more, his eyes growing ever-brighter. It wasn't long before the fully metal door at one end of the hallway slammed open and every prisoner jumped to their feet, coming to their barred doors and standing tall and straight with their hands behind their backs. A large man with numerous scars stalked down the hallway, slowly, eyeing every prisoner individually with a hateful stare. The demon and the experienced prisoner before him stayed tall and straight, not daring look into those hateful brown eyes, but the newer prisoner beside the demon, though knowing better than to meet the gaze, still let a whine slip. The warden stopped and all eyes went on the new prisoner. The prisoner's cellmate stood taller and had to force himself not to flinch as the jail door was slammed open and his cellmate was grabbed by the neck and hauled out and down the hallway. The door at the end of the hallway was jerked open and slammed shut behind the two, but not before the warden yelled back: "LUNCH! NOW!" Guards sprinted from the huge metal door the warden had come from and began opening cells, prisoners filing out and walking to a door in the wall in the center of the hallway, going through and going into the cafeteria. Everyone grabbed a tray and sat down at the metal tables and began eating. The demon sat but did not bother with the food, studying how not a single fight was breaking out, showing the fear that had just been instilled in all of the prisoners. So, the short lunch break was carried out in mostly silence and 'recess' was cancelled due to the poor weather outside. After the lunch break, then everyone returned their trays and was sent back to their cells unusually effortlessly. The demon went back to the center of his stone wall and pulled out a match as the last guard left, lighting his prize and smoking as he awaited his new cellmate.

December 24th, 2013 Christmas Eve at Theodore Grantâ€™s Mansion in Duchess This could very well be his very last Christmas Eve and for some reason had chosen to spend it among a group of people that more than likely consisted of people who would do their best to kill him in a little more than a week. Of course Noah Silverman has always been the type of man to easily succumb to the allures of fine wine and food; he just never realized his love of parties overruled all common sense. Neither did he realize that there were this many people who were the exact same way. The invitation he had received described the â€˜get-togetherâ€™ as a black tie dinner party and as such Noah appeared in a black suit with silk lapels, white dress shirt, black bow-tie, black cummerbund and black dress shoes. Before arriving he wondered whether it was all just an elaborate scheme to make him appear overdressed at the party only to make a fool out of him, but luckily no such thing happened and the vast majority of the attending guests were dressed appropriately. Noah sat by himself at one of the many large round tables, big enough to seat at least eighteen people, and took a look at his wristwatch while wondering how much longer itâ€™d take before dinner would be served. The three glasses of scotch heâ€™d drank while here tasted nice, but sitting all alone was getting boring and hopefully the rest of his party would arrive by the time dinner was served. He briefly wondered why no one had approached him ever since he had arrived. He wasnâ€™t on very good terms with any of the people he recognized, so their lack of courtesy came as no surprise, but surely some of the others would be curious as to who this mysterious stranger was? He snickered at the thought of his boyishly good looks being the determining factor in the distance created between him and the crowd. No way that it could be the fact that he was known as the Mage Hunter. Surely they hadnâ€™t heard of that? By now he had gotten so bored that instead of playing around with his glass of scotch he started examining the large ballroom. He had taken notice of it when he entered, but it wasnâ€™t until now that he fully realized how much time, money and effort Theodore must have put into organizing this party. The old man must have been just as bored as Noah was. He would never be able to explain how this sixth sense of his worked, but when a cold chill ran up his back he instinctively knew that it was time for him to turn his head to the entrance of on the ballroom located atop a grand stairway. As if acting upon that very cue the large white double doors opened and she came walking in and Noahâ€™s gaze remained forever locked onto her. Locked onto the way she wore her long dark hair loose and let it fall gracefully over her shoulders and onto her back. Locked onto the way she elegantly strode down the stairs, never losing her posture despite wearing high-heeled black pumps. And locked onto the way purple cocktail dress wrapped tightly around her form. It wasnâ€™t until her green eyes examined the ballroom and met his that he snapped out of his trance and returned back to reality. She was the cold Queen of Winter. She was the moon and the stars, brighter than anything else in the endless nightâ€™s sky. She was the eternal love of his life, Stella Lotharius. Noah would sell his every belonging if that were the price to pay for time to stand still at that moment. Whether it was the three glasses of scotch he drank on an empty stomach in the past hour or the sincere feelings he had for Stella was uncertain, but regardless of the reasons the fact remained that her entrance had left such an impression on her that he remained dazed in his chair as she approached him. The sound of Stella loudly clearing her throat was what it took for Noah to finally awaken from his second daze and rise from his seat. â€œI-Iâ€™m sorry!â€ He pulled the chair next to his out from under the table and took a deep bow while gesturing with his arms as if presenting the chair to Stella. She shot him a quick sideways glance before standing in front of the chair and allowing Noah to push it forward for her to have a seat. Without needing to check in with Stella he summoned one of the many waitresses Theodore had hired to attend to the guests and asked for a glass of their finest red wine before taking another bow for Stella. â€œYou may sit,â€ she said, without granting him another look, and he obediently sat down on the chair directly next to her. â€œWell?â€ â€œNothing.â€ â€œDonâ€™t tell me you spent the past hour drinking without doing the job I asked you to do.â€ â€œI am sorry, but Grant was nowhere to be found.â€ She scoffed. She was well aware that Noah did not have any regret at all. Asking him to end oneâ€™s life would always end up in a success, but something as simple as finding out what the deal with this party was was something outside of his capabilities? Before she had the chance to actually berate him all the lights in the ballroom went out and a large spotlight shone on the center of the room to reveal and elderly man in a black tuxedo. â€œWelcome, to my final Christmas Eve dinner party, ladies and gentlemen.â€ Several guests started clapping at the sight of their legendary hosts, but Stella sat down silently with her arms crossed and Noah sipped at his scotch wondering what all the hype was about. â€œAs you all know when the clock strikes twelve itâ€™ll be exactly one week before the start of the 50th War of Magic in Duchess and the thirteen Contenders present in this room will do battle to decide which one of them is the one worthy of inheriting my title and all of its perks.â€ Theodore paused and started coughing before resuming. My wish was for you all to share in one last night of festivities before going through the hell that is a War of Magic. I do not wish this fate upon you, but the will of the Cosmos must be followed.â€ Theodore took a long look around the room and made eye contact with all the Contenders before finishing his speech. â€œGood luck and bonne appetite.â€ â€œStella,â€ Noah gulped down the remaining scotch, â€œI am unfamiliar with this world. It wasnâ€™t until four years ago that I finally became a Champion so most of these people are strangers to me.â€ Stella quietly looked at Noah while waiting for him to finish. â€œWho is it we should be most worried of?â€ â€œHim.â€ She nodded in the direction of rather unimpressive Chinese man in his thirties. â€œLin Junwei. Iâ€™ve heard many people mention that he is a shoo-in for the title of the 50th Lord. Not only does his group consist of at least 300 Vassals and Champions, he was also personally trained and raised by the 49th Lord.â€ â€œGood.â€ Noah got up from his seat and flashed a mischievous smile. â€œWatch this.â€

Outskirts of Pyongyang, 2200 local time. There was a time when missions like this were executed exclusively by the military, but that was in an age long passed and the days of the ordinary soldier performing highly volatile tasks are long gone. Simply forking over a heap of cash to the Foundation just to successfully accomplish oneâ€™s goals, as is guaranteed when enlisting the aid of those like Elijah, had proven to be worth it in the long run when the uncertainties of failure no longer hamper oneâ€™s decision making. Elijah pressed a button on his earpiece and a faint buzzing sound resonated in his eardrum. â€œAll callsigns, this is Thanatos. Confirm youâ€™re in position, over.â€ One by one his four Fixer colleagues called out their callsigns followed by an affirmative. â€œStandby.â€ Elijah moved away from the cover of the tree and moved several meters closer to before dropping on his belly. The two soldiers under his direct supervision followed his lead. He took a peek through his binoculars to examine the heavily guarded military base they were sent to strike. American spies had uncovered that the North-Koreans were up to something silly again. He had been examining the patterns of the patrolling guards and the searchlights for a while and had decided that their best opportunity to strike would be now. â€œAll callsigns, this is Thanatos, approach in t-minus thirty seconds.â€ Everyone had their jobs, everyone knew what to do. All that was left for them was to get into a heavily guarded military base, eliminate all enemies and get out as soon as possible. â€œ4, 3, 2, 1.â€ Elijah and the two Americans hopped to their feet, walked towards the base with their rifles ready to fire and approached the chain-link fence. One of the Americans grabbed a wire cutter from his pouch and proceeded to create a hole in the fence large enough for them to fit through while Elijah and the other soldiers stood guard. The trio passed through the hole in the fence and followed Elijah as he led them to the back of a large container to remain out of sight. There were no gunshots to be heard, this had to mean that everyone had managed to infiltrate without getting caught. The Foundation could make quite some money by offering North Korea their security services; these Korean soldiers were ass at it. He waited for 10 seconds before initiating contact with the other Fixers. â€œAll callsigns, this is Thanatos, commence operation.â€ After receiving confirmation from everyone he gave the two soldiers next to him the okay and the three of them moved, ready to begin the strike op.

Skin Deep No matter how many times he crossed the threshold into the vastness of the manor-turned-school, the newest addition to staff couldn't seem to find his bearings. He hadn't brought much with him - he hadn't needed to. The room, and most of the furniture came with the position he had been offered. In fact, he had been promised, most enthusiastically, a very generous sum of accommodations for his services as a science professor. Graham Buchanan had devoted himself wholeheartedly to his fascination with the proof of things. He liked to know how things worked, how the threads of reality wove themselves together, how the magic- that he alone was aware of -seeped out of the ordinary. Because of his fascination, he had excelled. Because of his excellence, he had been recognized. Because of his recognition, Graham Buchanan did not find it difficult to find employment. So with several options to consider, it was only natural that Graham chose the prettiest opportunity. Chatham Hall had been an educational establishment since the late Regency era - one of the first, it liked to boast. The grandeur of the estate had been preserved over the years, and then cultivated - proud to flaunt its elegance to prospective staff and students. Such grandeur was lost on Graham, at present. This was the fifth time he had made the trek into the bowels of the building, and the fifth time that he had lost his way. He shifted the box in his arms, uncomfortably, and shuffled its weight to get a better grip on its corners. A passing staff member eyed his precarious hold on the parcel, but offered no assistance or advice. Instead he simply flashed a smile and nodded a wordless welcome before hurrying off somewhere he might not wind up roped into some sort of charity work. Graham didn't particularly mind, but the lack of helpful nature was not something that went unnoticed. With a knee bent to support a corner while he balanced on one foot, Graham reached his hand out to twist the knob of a nearby doorway. Vaguely, he thought he remembered that this door led down a hall that might bring him to the right place. Wrong. It was the door, not to hall, but to a room, where it seemed he had interrupted a small meeting of some sort. Graham's eyes went wide, but only for a split second before vanishing behind a flash of a smile. One of the group, an older man with a great bushel of a mustache, returned a polite grin and spoke up first, "Lose you way?" Graham released a breath disguised as a chuckle as he bettered his hold on the box again, "Hardly," he began, grinning, "I just found this box of crap and decided to go door to door and see if I can't pawn it off on some strangers." The older man's polite grin broadened, but he didn't reply. Graham glanced down at the box, "I heard some new guy on the third floor might be interested - you know where I might find some stairs?"

Tide and Tempest Tough the morning was young, the sun had already risen enough to wash the bay in its golden light. The docks were already bustling with the work of the merchant vessels, each crew and captain tending to its own business. The market was coming alive with shop keepers readying their fronts, and tradesmen bartering their goods for sale. Perched atop the rising island, watching the passage of the bay across water, stood Harrington Hall. The glass windows glittered, catching light of the rising sun. the silhouette of the majestic structure was visible from even the lowest part of the docks. As long as a man stood where he could see the bay, he could glance out over the shallows and see the windows staring back at him. The estate was a symbol as much as it was an ornament; a constant reminder that nearly every property was owned and overseen by the master of this prestigious house. It had been so for three generations. Each son that had inherited from his father, had added to the wealth and control that the Harrington family commanded. By the time the young Marcus Harrington had come into his inheritance only one year ago, he boasted ownership of half the store front properties and an impressive fleet of merchant vessels. The Harrington's weren't without competition in business, of course. Port Chatham was a small harbor in comparison to the rest of the sea-trade world, and goods and mercantile had to come from somewhere. But in Chatham, the Harrington's were as wealthy and as powerful a family you would find. They were the Aristocratic Royalty of the region. This morning, Marcus found himself pacing the aisles of his library, haunting the hollows of a usually vacant nook. The books that hid themselves, tucked away in this corner kept mythology of the ancient Greeks, sea-lore of the distant Nordsmen, and legends of the lost Atlantis. These were stories he'd once had a fascination with, in childhood when he had dreamed himself an adventurer. but Marcus had grown up despite boy-hood fantasies. He learned, instead, to hone his skills to his fathers standards. A businessman. A gentleman. Collected. Intelligent. He should have let his fantasies remain in his childhood; and he would have, if it had not been for an unusual event the week before. A chance moment, when he'd gone to the shipyard and seen something - or someone, he supposed. An encounter that had stirred long forgotten memories and awoken a long dormant interest in sea-lore and mythology. He furrowed his brow as he skimmed over the words on the page. It couldn't all be fiction. In every lie dwelt some truth, and he believed that he'd seen some of that truth with his own eyes. The most beautiful truth he could have ever hoped to behold, too. He wanted to know more. He wanted to see it again. He wanted... He wasn't sure what he wanted. Marcus clapped the book closed as he turned his attention out the bright window beside him. He gazed down at the shape of the docks, the tiny figures crawling like ants over the planks of the ships and structures. But that's not what interested him. He squinted at the clear blue water that lapped against the rocks. The sloping slabs where he'd seen her green eyes. There was no shape there anymore, no figure draped on the stones in the tide to watch the workers, no lovely creature spying on them as they went about their business, oblivious. No sign of the siren he'd seen. Not since last week past. And Marcus had kept a close watch. He half believed himself to be mad. He could picture her as vividly as if he'd seen it only moments ago. She had been lounging on the jut of rock beside the docks, with no shame for her nakedness, until she'd seen him gazing at her, stupefied. Then, like a dream vanishing as he woke, she'd drawn away, slipping with grace into the water, and he'd seen her shape change. He swore it. Her legs melted together, taking a new form as the water swallowed her up. And she was gone. But he'd seen her. Those green eyes were burned into his memory like a branding iron. Images of her perfection haunted his dreams. She had been real. She'd been absolute. She tormented him. He would find her. "Rajani," his voice echoed off the high slopes of the ceiling in the corridor as he left the library behind him. His boots fell in a swift pattern on the richly colored rug, carrying him with purpose towards the study in his own chambers. He didn't call for her again. She'd come. She was reliable like that. The only person in the living world Marcus would trust with his life since his father had joined his mother in the tombs beneath the estate. And this business that needed doing, this was something he could only trust her with. Others wouldn't understand. Others would have the Gaul to judge him for it- and that would leave him with the nasty business of putting them back in their place. With two hands, Marcus pushed his way through the double doors of his personal study. It was a wide, open room; one wall was lined with books that he'd prefer remain close to himself, rather than gather dust in the stacks of the empty library. The far wall was nearly entirely made of glass, draped with plum-velvet curtains and framing an exemplary view of the bay, looking west. Across from the book shelves, on the opposite wall, was a wide archway to the master bedroom, who's opening could be blocked by matching drapes that were tied aside. This wall also shared a great two-sided fire place between the study and the bedchamber, with rearing stallions carved into the stone on either side. Centered, and placed so its master could both admire the hearth as well as the view, was a grand, dark, oak desk with parchment and paper strewn abut it. There were other pieces of furniture in the study; a chaise and chairs before the fireplace, a receiving nook tucked into a corner, and a chess table silhouetted against the vast windows, but none that looked to have been in use at all, besides the desk. Marcus seemed to ignore all the fine things around him, and rather, swept into a padded oak chair at the desk, where he plucked a pen from an ink well and began busily scrawling out instructions over the blank parchment that had been waiting for him.

The hard line of a tall man stood silhouetted against the glimmering glass of the solarium. He basked in the morning sunlight, his hands clasped behind his back, feeling the unfamiliar warmth of the sun on his skin. He didnâ€™t belong to this world of light and luxe - but he had done well to costume himself in it. His clothes were richly embroidered, tailored to fit his capable frame; his posture was one of refinement and regality. He was fair featured - more so than the blonde hair and blue eyes - but his skin, too, was pallid. Pale and flawless; Skin that didnâ€™t know sun; Eyes that didnâ€™t know light. There entered a slow, wary, echo of footsteps into the glittering glass-house, but the ashen gentleman did not turn to observe his host. Instead he drew in a deep breath and opened his clear blue eyes to sweep his gaze over the mountaintop island laid out below. â€œI trust you've familiarized yourself with my terms.â€ He cooed with a deep thrumming voice - still keeping his gaze on the bright island above the sea of clouds. It was not a question, but rather, an affirmation that he was growing weary of the lengthy conversation they had traded several times before. The pair who had joined him in the gilded solarium were richly adorned in all the the aristocracy had to offer. They wore on their faces matching expressions of concern and skepticism, hiding behind poorly constructed masks of false confidence. The more authoritative of the two, a plump, gluttonous man, who absentmindedly polished the face of his pocket watch, pursed his lips and cleared his throat, "Mr. Slade," he began, unable to hide the uncertainty in his tone, "I cannot stress enough my appreciation for your discretion." Slade chose that moment to turn his face toward them, shoulders and torso swinging around to follow. His expression was a perfect portrait of grace and poise, cool confidence with the slightest of smug grins itching to show itself in the curl of his mouth. "And you have it," he reassured him, pausing a moment to pierce the pair with his icy gaze- unnerving them all the more. "I understand, perfectly, the necessity of privacy, my Lord Moran. Rest assured that if you hold up your end of our arrangement- I shall quietly uphold mine." The Baron, Gabriel Moran, seemed comforted by his words and settled back a little more comfortably on his heels. Allowing himself a grateful sigh he tucked his pocket watch away and moved further into the glass room, striding with more confidence than before. "And when can we expect the delivery?" "Oh, it is on it's way as we speak, my Lord Baron," Slade said with a flash of teeth. "We can expect to receive the device within the hour, I think. Your denizens of Riverfax will no doubt sing songs of your greatness when your capabilities become known." The Baron puffed his chest out at the words, beaming at the idea. Then he paused. "And how grand do you expect those capabilities will be?" His eyes widened as a new fear made itself known, "you guarantee I'll outreach the other cities? Riverfax will be superior?" Slade stole the moment for himself, his charm never leaving the lines of his face, even for an instant, "I cannot guarantee anything that is outside my own influence," he reasoned, "what you do with the means I've sold to you is your own business, not mine. I can, however, promise that I will call to collect on the favor you owe me- and that very well can spell out your fortunes or failings." "Favor!?" Moran protested, checking his sudden outburst as his silent companion placed a concerned tap on his shoulder. "I've paid you as we agreed," the Baron continued, only just containing his offended bafflement, "in full. No favors were agreed upon." â€œIndeed, my Lord Baron, you have given me my asking price in Aquamarine stones, but do not think for a moment that this is everything I require.â€ â€œUnacceptable!â€ The Baron protested further, despite the calculating resolve in Sladeâ€™s eyes and tone, â€œThe gemâ€™s were yours without question, without negotiation! I paid my dues, now deliver me what was promised!â€ Slade stood quietly for a moment, the brilliance of the sun dazzling behind him - making his strong, dark frame smolder against the sun drenched sky. He was stoic. Calm. Collected. But there was a threatening burn behind the crystal irises of his gaze that silenced Moran, and made him suddenly feel like a petulant child. â€œYouâ€™ve bought yourself a wondrous power, my Lord Moran, but do you know how to wield it?â€ He lifted his chin ever-so-slightly, â€œFor instruction, I require further compensation.â€ He lifted a hand, silencing whatever words the Baron had prepared himself to argue with, â€œNot gems. Favors. I am kind to my friends,â€ his words trailed, as though he had left the sentence unfinished. But without another syllable, Slade swept forward and brushed past the Baron and his attendant. He was gone before Moran had the time to piece himself back together. The Baron gaped at the empty doorway. â€œYou donâ€™t think heâ€¦â€ the Baronâ€™s face turned to his attendant before his eyes could tear themselves away from Sladeâ€™s commanding and empty wake. â€œThreatened you, my Lord?â€ The attendant suggested, shaking his head slightly, but not out of doubt, â€œI think that man is capable of a great many things, sirâ€¦ a great many unthinkable things.â€

Xisha Samuul was a member of the jedi order. A Jedi Consular, who specifically handled assignments regarding political unrest. Her job was simple, locate the leaders who were having problems, find out what they each wanted, and resolve the situation without any need for violence. Xisha was very good at this job, she made relatively difficult tasks appear simple and easy. She had an 95% success rate in these sorts of situations. There were always the few incidents where one party just wanted to shed blood for the sake of evil and unjust natures, but normally if that was the case Xisha would call in a comrade. She had a very strong connection to the force that was displayed in her words, the sound of her voice was soothing and brought most men to solace. She had the ability to be a fierce combatant, but she never sought out training in light saber battle. Her abilities focused on healing in all aspects body and mind. Xisha walked down the corridor of the Republic Heavy Cruiser. The jedi stood at about 5'4''. Most of her body was covered by a brown robe. While her hood was up the only part of her that you could see were her plush red lips and fleeting sights of flawless pale ivory skin. By the way she walked it was evident she was a woman. The robe was not too tight, but the saunter in her hips with each step gave her gender away. Xisha walked through the ship. She wasn't in a particular hurry, taking slow and steady strides towards the front. The ship was heading towards Taris, the jedi order had recently set up a small enclave there and she had been given reports about Mandalorian activity in the area getting restless. If nothing was done soon the order feared the Mandalorians would attempt a siege. This was exactly the type of work she did so well. After a few minutes she finally reached the main cock pit of the Cruiser. Xisha made her way over to the Republic Officer incharge and inquired,"How much longer until we reach Taris Officer?" The man wore a republic uniform with merits displaying his rank. He had slicked back black hair and sage colored eyes. He had been reading an output alert on the radar screen in front of him, so when he was roused out of this concentration by her, he was effectively surprised. " Oh, umm..." He hurriedly checked a different screen as to not keep her waiting too long for a reply. After a moment he looked back to Xisha. "About four hours ma'am." Xisha just nodded and gave a little, "Thank you." Before turning around. Xisha planned to meditate until they landed. There was always time to focus on the force and her bond to it. The second you think you know everything is the moment you become a fool. That was what her Master had taught her. There is always room for improvement. Once inside her private quarters and the door was shut, she removed her robe. She didn't like for everyone to see her, it usually led to problems with men who had been away in space for far too long. Underneath her robe she wore a simple white tank top and a pair of tight tan pants which stopped halfway down her calf. Xisha sported an amazing body, large ample curves with a toned and athletic core. Her fiery medium length orange-red hair fell down around her shoulders as she undid her hair tie. She shook her hair out and ran her hands through the silken locks with a sigh of relief. Her body fell back onto her bed, pale skin blending in so well with the white sheets of her bed. Her face was turned upward. If she weren't a Miraluka, with her absent sockets instead of eyes, she would be staring up at the ceiling. There was a black lace cloth on her night stand that she lazily grabbed with her hand. Xisha took the cloth and wrapped it around where her eyes should be, properly covering this sensitive area. She couldn't 'see' her room in the traditional sense. Miraluka's perceived their surrounding through the force. She felt her own force energy spread from every inch of her body flowing over everything around her. It was as if she were made of water that endlessly flowed outward touching everything around her in the universe, continuing for eternity. It was amazing how she could feel things over vast distances. So many times, when one of her brethren or sister jedi fell light years away, she knew the instant it hapened. The shock of someone close to her being cut off from the force was a pain she could not hide from. Likewise, when new life connected to the force a joy over took her that she could not explain. Xisha simply laid in bed feeling all of this at once. She could feel the pulse of every member of the crew. As their hearts beat it sent ripples out that eventually hit her lightly, like gentle waves flowing over her. Xisha took a deep breath in and concentrated. Now everything quieted down, her sensitively grew dull, and eventually it all became silent. She focused on her own thoughts. It was in times like this that she was most vulnerable, but this was also how she made herself stronger. She chanted the jedi mantra over and over again, her voice a whisper in the wind that filled up the whole ship, a calming tone in the ear of every crew member. "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.There is no passion, there is serenity.There is no chaos, there is harmony.There is no death, there is the Force." It repeated over and over again for a couple hours until Xisha finally let go of her restraint and all the feeling of the force came back to her in one snap of conductivity. She took in a deep breath and sat back up in bed. A little trickle of sweat slid down the side of her face and she quickly wiped it away with her hand. "I think that is enough meditation for today." She said to herself. Sometimes her natural ability was overwhelming. There was so much life and death in the universe, combined with the vast cold expanse of space. So many mysteries and such a simple code to follow.

Background Story For as long as we can remember these Families have been here. They have been around ever since mankind started keeping records, so our theory is that they have been around for at least several thousands of years. Probably as long as â€˜normalâ€™ humans have, but I guess none of that is truly important. What is important is that there are so many of these Families that we have started to lose track of them. Several thousands of them populate our planet, living among us, and yet their existence is unknown to the vast majority of mankind. They have managed to keep themselves hidden from anyone who wasnâ€™t in a position to know. Many of these families chose to do nothing with the gift they were granted, but just as many of them chose to serve the public through the government or chose a life of crime. Honorable or not, crime is still crime and nothing is as dangerous as a criminal who surpasses human limits. Setting Hello amigos. Once again it is contemporary fantasy time! Inspired by K and Hitman Reborn The heads of the aforementioned families possess hereditary supernatural powers. These powers are passed on to the eldest of their children and have existed for hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years this way, but these lucky few arenâ€™t the only ones with these powers. Those who are loyal to the heads of the families, these can be other family members, friends or maybe even simple minions, can be granted powers of their own by these heads. This RP is about one of these families, the Leone family, who have turned to crime. A Mafia Family, one of the seven biggest families in the US metropolis Wolfdale and one of the three that is also a part of organized crime. They are rich, influential, notorious and honorable. Despite their cruelty they are also known for their philanthropic efforts and code of honor and it is thanks to their efforts that the underworld of Wolfdale didnâ€™t break out into an all-out-war long ago. But will the shaky peace of Wolfdale last when the head of the Leone family gets assassinated? This is a story of the criminal underworld's struggle for power while the Leone family does everything necessary to avenge their Don. Player Characters Name: Family: Age: Personality: Appearance: Abilities: Background:

Rhinona watched in terror from her hiding spot under the bed as heavy feet stomped around her bedroom. Her mother could be heard from outside screaming and arguing. Keeping her breathing as silent as possible, petite hands covered her delicate mouth and her wide storm grey eyes inched along following the intrudersâ€™ movements. They had only been here for a few moments searching for her but to Rhinona moments felt like hours. Her family had just returned from the spring festival. All the people were in attendance. Young woman danced in the meadows while the men participated in tournaments. She had been picked by the elders to perform the ceremonial dance of spring, a great honor with her people. And now she was cowering under her bed hiding for her life. How quickly the mood of the day could be destroyed. Finally though from what Rhinona saw the booted men had left, leaving her in peace. Sensitive pointed ears twitched lightly, listening for any sounds to give away the men but she heard nothing. Her mother had grown silent too, they must have left. Releasing a sigh of relief Rhinona crawled out from under her bed. Unfortunately though her grey eyes caught sight of her mother gagged and bound by two men outside. Fear swelled in the young elf again as she felt a rag coming to her face covering her nose and mouth. A struggled breath brought about a blurred vision and a thick sickly sweet scent clouded her senses. The following event occurred as though it happened in a hazy nightmare. There was her mother yanking against the intruders her face contorted in a scream but no sound came from her mouth. Rhinonaâ€™s father was punched in the gut and he fell to his knees doubled over slower than time should have allowed. Her older brother was pinned down on the ground bright green blood running from his broken nose, a heavy foot held against his neck. All Rhinona could feel was confusion and the rough tugging on her arms before the world went black. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A dull aching throbbing pain inside her skull roused Rhinona, forcing a weak groan out of her mouth. Pain seared through her blood as she opened her eyes allowing the bright light to shine in her face. She was lying down on some sort of medical bed. Struggling to sit up a voice called to her from thin air. â€œIâ€™d be careful moving around. Delicate pointed ears twitched at the sound painfully and her hand came up to feel this particular extremity of her body. Her fingers brushed against polished metal that curved intricately around the inner workings of her ears. Wincing slightly at the pain she felt from touching the new piercings Rhinona moved her hand along the side of the bed to fully push herself up to a seated position. The voice sounded again. â€œLuckily you had less work done on you, it was all superficial. Just piercings and brandings.â€ Glazed grey eyes searched the room for the speaker but found no one. Instead there was a device placed on the bedside table where the sound was coming from. There was a camera as well pointed at her, recording her every move. â€œW-Who are you? W-Where am I?â€ The voice responded from the small device. â€œDo not worry; you are in the recovery room. You were asleep for quite some time. The boys appeared to have used too strong of a chemical on you. Iâ€™m Nicholas, your keeper, servant, doctor, and whatever else you may need me to be.â€ Rhinona inclined her head confused. â€œBut youâ€™re a box?â€ A smooth masculine laugh sounded from the doorway and her head whipped around to see a tall man standing there, his red hair grazing his eyes in length, a warm smile on his face. But Rhinona noticed the small details about him. â€œYouâ€™re not of my kind.â€ His smile dropped and he explained she was no longer on her home planet. She had been acquired by the master of the house. â€œWhy am I here?â€ Her voice was soft in sorrow but she would not allow that to hide the determination of finding answers. Nicholas took a deep breath before starting. â€œSome time ago the Master asked to have entertainment. We brought a variety of people but none of them suited his tastes. Finally he asked for dancers. Thatâ€™s where you and the other young lady come in. You are to be his entertainers.â€ Rhinonaâ€™s face paled and she thought about what else they meant by entertainment. Nicholas must have noticed her discomfort before quickly stopping her train of thought. â€œPlease do not panic, you are here only for dancing. The master has no intention of being intimate with you at all.â€ Grey eyes rolled. Like that makes it all better. Extending a hand Nicholas attempted to ease her fear. â€œCome now, let us find you a proper outfit before we meet with the other dancer. Rhinona took his hand and followed him though several corridors into a room where he left her momentarily in the care of two female attendants. When he returned Rhinona was dressed in a sheer wrap around dress with the halter strap twisting to the back and the hemline longer in the back in a deep shade of purple. The dress clung to her curves faithfully, revealing the feminine figure she was gifted with. A smile graced Nicholasâ€™ lips for a moment before he spoke. â€œLovely. Now come with me and we shall meet the other dancer and her personal attendant.â€